Chapter 6 - The Betrayal in the House
Marco had been with Vincent for seventeen years.
He had taken bullets for him.
Buried bodies for him.
Slept in cars outside hospitals.
Stood beside him when everyone else disappeared.
He was the last person Vincent expected to betray him.
Yet the gun was pointed directly at his chest.
“Put it down,” Vincent said.
Marco's eyes were wet.
“I can't.”
“Why?”
“You wouldn't understand.”
“Then explain.”
Marco looked at Amelia.
“She was supposed to die.”
Amelia recoiled.
“Who ordered it?”
Marco hesitated.
Sofia answered.
“Monroe.”
Vincent looked at his aunt.
“And you knew?”
“Yes.”
“You allowed this?”
“I kept her alive.”
“By telling people to kill her?”
“No.”
Sofia turned toward Amelia.
“I told them to scare her away from Brooklyn. Raymond was the one who escalated.”
Marco lowered the gun slightly.
“I was told the girl carried the archive.”
Vincent stepped forward.
“Give me the gun.”
“I can't.”
“You owe me.”
Marco swallowed.
“I owe too many people.”
Suddenly the window shattered.
A bullet struck the wall.
Marco pushed Vincent aside.
Another shot.
Marco fell.
The gun clattered across the floor.
Vincent caught him.
“Marco!”
Blood spread across his shirt.
Amelia dropped beside them.
“Call an ambulance.”
Sofia was already moving.
“Take him to the private clinic.”
Vincent looked at her.
“No.”
“He will die here.”
“Then he dies with a doctor who works for me.”
They moved Marco.
Before leaving, he grabbed Vincent's wrist.
“Diner.”
Vincent leaned closer.
“The archive is under the floor.”
“What part?”
“Where she dropped the cup.”
He lost consciousness.
Vincent stared at Amelia.
“The counter.”
They returned to Castellano's after midnight.
The diner was closed.
Lights dim.
Amelia walked to the place where Derek had knocked her down.
She stood silently.
“This is where I fell.”
Vincent nodded.
“Find the loose tile.”
They searched.
Nothing.
Then Amelia remembered the overturned coffee cup.
Not the location.
The sound.
When the cup had hit the floor, it had struck something hollow.
She knelt.
Tapped the tile.
Hollow.
Vincent pulled it up.
Inside was a metal box.
No lock.
No key.
Just a fingerprint sensor.
Amelia stared.
“Why would my father use this?”
Vincent placed her finger on it.
The box opened.
Inside was a hard drive.
And a letter.
To my daughter.
Amelia unfolded it.
The handwriting was unmistakable.
Elena,
If you are reading this, then I failed to give you the life I promised.
But failure and surrender are not the same.
There are people who built fortunes from fear.
They will tell you that power is the only language the world understands.
Do not believe them.
Your mother's name was Rose Fletcher.
Your biological father's name is Giovanni Castellano.
He loved you.
He just did not know how to love without creating enemies.
Thomas Fletcher knows the truth.
Monroe knows the truth.
Sofia knows the truth.
And Vincent will one day know.
Trust him.
He will pretend he doesn't deserve your trust.
He is wrong.
Amelia began crying.
Vincent stood behind her.
He did not touch her.
The letter continued.
The archive contains everything.
The payments.
The murders.
The names.
But there is one file that must never be opened unless Monroe comes after you himself.
Because that file contains the truth about me.
Amelia stopped.
“What does that mean?”
Vincent looked at the hard drive.
“We need a computer.”
They took it to the secured office.
The archive contained thousands of files.
Invoices.
Bank transfers.
Photographs.
Recordings.
Police reports.
Names.
Amelia's father had built the archive over years.
Vincent opened one folder.
THE FLETCHER ACCOUNT.
Inside were records showing Thomas had transferred money to Monroe.
Then another folder.
CASTELLANO INTERNAL.
Inside were payments to Sofia.
Vincent stared.
“She was working with him.”
Amelia shook her head.
“No.”
“What?”
“She wasn't.”
“Look.”
The payments were labeled with the initials S.C.
But Amelia noticed something.
Every payment stopped fourteen months before her father's death.
“Maybe Sofia stopped.”
Vincent continued searching.
Then they found the final file.
MONROE.
Password protected.
A message appeared.
SEVEN LETTERS.
Amelia remembered the clue.
Her stitches.
Seven letters.
She typed her father's secret word.
ROSEFELT.
The file opened.
A recording appeared.
Giovanni Castellano sat in a dark room.
His face looked older than in the photographs.
“Vincent,” he said.
“If you're seeing this, you're old enough to know why I made the choices I did.”
Vincent stared at the screen.
“I was never the head of the organization.”
He continued.
“Monroe was.”
Vincent's breath caught.
“Everything I controlled was designed to protect the people Monroe could not reach.”
Then Giovanni looked directly at the camera.
“Thomas Fletcher is not your enemy.”
Amelia covered her mouth.
“Neither is Sofia.”
The recording paused.
Then Giovanni said the one sentence that changed everything.
“The enemy is the man you have called Uncle Richard your entire life.”
Vincent froze.
Richard.
His father's older brother.
A man believed dead.
A man who had supposedly died in an explosion fifteen years earlier.
Amelia looked at him.
“Your uncle is alive.”
Vincent whispered, “Impossible.”
The computer screen flickered.
A new file opened automatically.
A live video.
A man sat in a leather chair.
Gray hair.
A scar down one cheek.
A familiar smile.
Richard Castellano looked directly into the camera.
“Hello, Vincent.”
Vincent stumbled backward.
May you like
Richard smiled.
“I've been waiting for my family to come home.”
